Terry Jones is stuck in my butt. Like right up in there, and he hurts. I find him and then I gotta pick him out and that hurts even worse. He’s always showing up at the worst times too. My doctor has no advice other than to suggest that I not go anywhere near a cable news camera or I risk a serious infection of asshole. I guess I should clarify; Terry Jones, as in The Terry Jones (the psychopathic pastor from Florida) is not in my butt. I’ve just named the dirty little wads of TP that get caught up there after him (sorta’ like little prayers I can crush down the drain with my heel). Even if you’re dumb enough to agree with his “anit-islamic” sentiment – the limp prick still burned a book! When did that become a good idea? Yet, Terry Jones is effective – and what I mean to say is that Terry Jones inspired me a great deal. I’ve had a vision. A vision of America, the United States, the greatest country God could imagine, (whatever flavor of crazy you prefer), as my butt - America as a giant butt. You see, there’s the left and the right, both fairly benign when taken alone, but where the two shall meet things get a little dirty; this cleavage of darkness, crevasse of reason, black hole, has destroyed all sanity and intelligent discourse. Most of us reside somewhere on the rolling expanse of either hemisphere bordering this great valley, but as science has proven a positive cannot exist without its negative. Where these two regions of ideology are supple and full of interesting ideas, a mighty fault line divides the pair where they meet, and typically nothing you’d really want to hold onto comes out of there. The big problem is that certain individuals live there in the valley and spew idiocy like napalm–we all get burned. You already know about Terry, but Palin has a ranch, Jon Kyl just moved in along with Limbaugh, Reagan is buried there, Bush kept a summer home, and I’ve heard rumors that Obama is looking for a time share. Suffice it to say it’s been very difficult getting clean – these phonies hang in there, and hypocrisy is sticky. I’m leaving for Europe in the morning and I’ll admit it – I don’t know if I should defect or wax.
